The Seventh Magic (Book 3) (6 page)

"This is the way I see it, Kenward. If I leave you alone, you'll build terrible airships that fly just long enough to crash into something."

Onin, who had been otherwise silent, could not contain his laughter.

Nora stared him back into silence. "If I put you on the
Trader's Wind
, you'll find a way to sink us. If I put you on the
Dragon's Wing
, your sister will kill you. You leave me little choice, my son."

It was all true, but Kenward couldn't help it. He was who he was, and nothing could change that.

"If the Trells build airships," Nora continued, "then we're going to build the best airships the world has ever seen. Is that clear?" The smile finally came to his mother's eyes, and his sister threw salted fish at him--just like old times. "I can't have just
one
of the greatest airships. I'll need at least two. And I'll need a captain for each. Think I'll have trouble finding any?"

"No, ma'am," Kenward said, tears in his eyes. Never before had his family so deeply believed in his vision. He had no illusions that building airships in partnership with his mother and sister would be a drama-free experience, but he also knew their tenacity, attention to detail, and just pure desire to make him do things better would improve the end result.

"So why have you brought me out here to the middle of a tainted land?" Kenward asked. "There are no sailable waters within many miles from here."

"Fool boy. If you're building airships, what do you need water for?"

"Drinking mostly," Fasha said. "And washing."

Kenward made a face at her.

"What do you need to build airships?" Nora asked as if speaking to a slow child.

"Lightwood."

"For certain applications, yes, but not and entire ship unless you're desperate."

Kenward took offense on behalf of the
Serpent
. The fact that the ship no longer existed kept his mouth shut. No sense providing an easy target. It was among the first things one learned as a part of this family.

"Balsa, spruce, cedar, lightwood, and shakewood combined with a ready supply of rope weed," Nora said. "Now that would be how you build airships. A correct tool exists for every job and a correct material for every purpose. Remember, sailing is the fun part. Building the ships that make sailing fun is the hard part."

Kenward knew the truth of her words. He'd yet to build a proper airship, but he'd not yet had the materials needed. "Good luck finding all those things in one place."

Nora Trell smiled.

* * *

Behind the small cabin, across a narrow ravine with a moss- and mushroom-covered bridge of hewn logs, Fasha led Kenward toward the place his mother said had everything he needed. Occasional echoes filled the valley, much of it obscured by a noisy creek filled with a series of waterfalls. The smell of fires came to his nostrils as the wind blew toward the cabin where his mother and the others waited. While she could have made the climb with them, her time was far better spent caring for Farsy and Bryn; at least that was what she said.

Scrabbling up a ravine to the ridgetop, Fasha stood triumphant. Barely a step behind her, Kenward stumbled when he saw what lay beyond. A vast lowland plain made the perfect staging area and dry dock, already partially constructed. Shipbuilders, carpenters, smiths, and foresters numbering in the hundreds made the landscape move. These people knew what they were doing.

"You've seen the future, my brother," Fasha said. "We've seen what you can do on your own. Now let's see what you can do with the full force of the Trell family behind you."

Few times in his life had his sister rendered him speechless, but this time she utterly succeeded. The
Dragon's Wing
resting in a dry dock that took up just a fraction of the size of the entire operation helped Kenward understand the scale at which his mother and sister were thinking. Surely they were just as crazy as he. They had simply hidden it better. "They're going to be huge!" he said.

Fasha grinned.

"How long have you known?"

"Mom and I have been working on this for a while," Fasha admitted. "We didn't always know it would be airships we'd be building, but it did seem likely since the
Eel
and the
Dragon's Wing
had both flown when they had not been designed to do so. Purpose-built flying ships were the likely evolution, which you've proven in your own spectacular fashion."

"Thanks, Sis."

"Don't thank me. I'm just going to use this opportunity to kick your tail with all things equal. No excuses. Fair's fair. Deal?"

"You’re on," Kenward said, grinning back. "What're the stakes?"

"Knowing you? Our lives."

Kenward barked a laugh.

"First, though, I think you'd be wise to fix Onin's tierre."

His sister made good sense, but while he had her alone, he had to ask one more question. "Have you seen any walnuts?"

Suspicious, she replied, "No. Why? What do you needs walnuts for?"

"Nothing," Kenward said. "I just like walnuts."

"Uh-huh," Fasha said, walking back toward the cabin.

"Have you seen any bats?"

Fasha turned and regarded him with one of those looks. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing."

Chapter 6

To see the power and majesty of creation, look to the skies. To experience that same power and majesty, look inside.

--Catrin Volker, Herald of Istra

* * *

Many gathered to see Sinjin, Kendra, Strom, and Osbourne off. Most did not want them to leave but understood nonetheless. Durin's hands trembled when loading extra water skins and rations into the saddlebags, but already he'd grown stronger. Still, Sinjin hated leaving him behind, especially when so much work needed to be done. Matters of survival had fallen by the wayside. There would come a point he'd have to make extremely difficult decisions.

Arakhan and Mikala approached. They would be in charge of the Drakon in his and Kendra's absence, the strength he could not be for his people. Both deserved to be Al'Drakon more than he, but that choice had been left to Valterius. Sinjin often wondered if the dragon had made a mistake. Sometimes he thought Al'Drak might wonder as well. Arakhan checked Strom's straps, where he was secured behind Kendra, and Mikala checked Osbourne's. Arakhan leaped down from Gerhonda and slapped her on the hindquarters. The regal dragon swatted at him before leaping into the wind.

Just before Mikala jumped down, she whispered in Sinjin's ear. "Don't go. They'll kill you." He barely heard the rest of her words as Valterius chose to follow Gerhonda before Mikala was on the ground. She held on long enough to deliver her cryptic message--"It's not you they want"--before leaping to safety. An instant later, the dragons and their riders hurtled through open air. Valterius trimmed his wings and dived, gaining tremendous speed before chasing after Gerhonda. The people within Windhold watched, knowing the dragonriders' to go to the Godfist. But both dragons turned sharply, heading back inland.

"Where are we going?" Kendra screamed as they flew through all-too-familiar valleys.

"I wish I kn--" Within the otherwise pristine forest, something dark and twisted moved, cutting his words short. Silently Sinjin directed Kendra's attention until she, too, saw it. Ash-painted warriors and demons approached land they had so easily taken years before. Windhold was defenseless against them, as it had always been. So much time lost, and now it had run out.

Osbourne's grip on Sinjin's shoulders tightened, physically turning him to see giants emerge from an adjoining valley. They were easy to spot as the lumbering brutes howled their displeasure. Reaching down, the twisted, oversized creatures grabbed massive river stones and hurled them at the approaching dragons. Osbourne screamed as one of the mighty stones whizzed past with a rush of stinging wind and sand.

Dipping low, Valterius slipped between two giants. Each swung at them as they passed, both just a little too late. Carried by their momentum, they struck each other instead and bellowed in rage. More corrupt forces poured from ships moored along the northwestern coast. Sails crowded the horizon, all coming from a direction not easily visible from within Windhold. The valley ahead appeared pristine. These armies were just arriving, not yet ready for full-scale attack.

"What are we going to do?" Kendra shouted.

"I don't know," Sinjin yelled in response.

A sheer face loomed ahead. Tenacious bushes and trees reached out, ready to claw anything that came too close. Saddles creaked from downward force. Looking over his shoulder, Sinjin could see one of the giants coming after them, a river stone in each gnarled, twisted hand. The higher they flew, the slower their ascent. Proving giants weren't stupid, the massive beast waited. Carefully timing the attack, its aim was true.

Valterius's last-second evasive moves were all that saved them from certain annihilation, turning a direct hit into a glancing blow, though enough to shake them nonetheless.

"Are you hurt?" Sinjin shouted back to Osbourne.

No response came. At their peak, Valterius turned, providing a clear view of the keystone and the green crystals surrounding it. All the entryways were clear. No rock littered the area around the keystone, and rubble previously blocking the entrances was gone. Soon they raced back down the rock face toward the enraged giant. Beyond, archers formed ranks. They were in trouble. When red lightning erupted from huddled figures in dark robes, the world exploded. Turning, they avoided direct hits, but Sinjin felt the sting of even a graze. Valterius roared from pain of his own.

The valiant regal dragon soared upward, aiming his claws for the giant's eyes. The mighty beast raked the air, massive, filthy hands more like claws swatting at them. With a roar, the giant bent down and grabbed an angular chunk of granite from the valley floor. Clumps of grass and a tree still clung to it.

Diving and gaining speed, Valterius raced toward the dark-robed figures. Twice their attacks scraped the regals, but for the most part, the dragons avoided the streams of noxious energy. Their passengers flailed, jerked back and forth with dizzying suddenness.

While giants had proven they weren't stupid, neither were they brilliant. Hurling the massive granite boulder with all its might, the giant launched a devastating projectile . . . just where Valterius wanted. Anticipating the attack, the dragons dodged. The mass of granite raced beneath, plowing into the valley floor with land-ripping force. The dark-robed sorcerers were no more. Arrows and rocks filled the air in volleys, threatening to take them down, but the dragons knew this land better than anyone else alive. Circling back, they raced toward Windhold. Sinjin expected them to land, expected to orchestrate the evacuation. The speed at which they approached, though, made it clear there would be no stopping.

"We're under attack!" he screamed as they passed stunned faces. Dragons roared and shouts filled the hold. "Make for the keystone in the peaks! Something's opened them up!"

In the next instant, they soared through open air, racing toward an approaching fleet.

* * *

Having skilled artisans at his disposal made almost everything easier for Kenward Trell. Not since the
Slippery Eel
had he played the role of wealthy shipbuilder. His past two ships had been built from sweat and tears. These new ships would be built from that rare combination of the best materials and pride. A well-made, well-maintained, skillfully sailed ship could span generations. The
Trader's Wind
was such an example. Recent discoveries rendered the ship largely obsolete but not entirely. Kenward tried not to get ahead of himself. His ships would have their time.

For the moment, he was content to scale the ridgeline separating his mother's cabin from the main worksite. Onin had been more patient than Kenward would have expected. In some ways the man had been downright pleasant. Even skilled artisans needed time to produce quality work, and Onin had said there was no sense repairing his tierre if not to fix it correctly. This meant disassembling undamaged parts to be replicated for the side
someone
had flown the bumblebee into. Kenward had been thinking hard on how to improve the design.

The parts were heavy, but Bryn, Farsy, and Fasha helped. Onin was content to let them do all the work, which Kenward grudgingly supposed was only right. He'd expected the older man to come see the work site, but Onin had said he'd see plenty when he flew over. The walk got easier as they went, though the carved parts seemed to get heavier over time. Wood smoke from the cabin mixed with spices and cook smoke, and the smell kept them moving. After staging the new and old parts for reassembly, Kenward was the first to the door.

He was about to ask what smelled so good, but no one noticed him enter. Onin and Nora laughed so hard, they had tears in their eyes. Grubb fidgeted.

"And then she poured the potatoes on his lap!" Nora said after a few deep breaths.

Reddened and breathing hard, Onin held his ribs. "Enough," he gasped. "No more. You’re killing me."

"Are you two all right?" Kenward finally asked.

"Shut up and eat," his mother said, which set them both to laughing again.

Shrugging, Kenward moved to where Grubb cooked. "What smells so good?"

His old friend shoved a plate full of all Kenward's favorites into his hands. "Shut up and eat."

You didn't have to tell Kenward twice, but it didn't hurt. Onin giggled like a little boy, and Nora wiped her eyes. Fasha and the others were no fools. They grabbed plates for themselves and did as Kenward had been told.

"Are you going to let us in on the joke?" Fasha asked when her plate was clean.

"No," Nora and Onin said at the same time, and this set them giggling again.

"That tierre isn't going to reassemble itself, you know," Farsy said when done eating. When walking past the stove, he added, "I thank you as always, friend Grubb."

Kenward took the hint, finished the last of his food and followed Farsy to the door. Bryn came with them. Fasha stayed behind.

"What do you suppose was going on in there?" Kenward asked when they were well clear of the cabin. Farsy looked at him as if he were daft. "Well, I know the whole men and women thing and the flirting, but really? Do you think? Onin . . . and my mom?"

Bryn remained silent.

"Don't look at me," Farsy said. "I just see what I see and know what I know."

"And what do you know?" Kenward asked, already knowing the punch line.

"I know how to tie knots."

"That you do. That you do."

The joke was Farsy's way of telling Kenward to shut his mouth and do what needed doing. Onin's tierre was a remarkable bit of construction, and Kenward had never intended to crash into it. It just worked out that way. Seeing it restored was satisfying. Jehregard watched from nearby, his look disapproving. Kenward wasn't looking forward to getting the heavy structure back on the towering dragon.

"We're going to need a hoist," Farsy said, as if reading Kenward's thoughts--something that appeared far too easy for the good captain's comfort. "That's what the dragon is accustomed to, and that's the safest way I know."

"I'll get the forestry crew to come set us up one," Kenward said, ready to walk away from the final reconstruction.

"Really? You're not even going to help us finish this thing?"

"Time's a wasting my friend," Kenward said as he walked away. "Things need doing."

* * *

Mikala had warned Sinjin not to come. Though he didn't fully comprehend Arghast legends and beliefs, he knew they expected the Herald to come for the sword. He could hardly believe ancient prophecies had predicted she would lose her sword over the desert. Prophecies were funny creatures, though. Mikala had described the sword as the Dragon's Tooth, a mighty weapon that would come to the Arghast from the sky. Sinjin hadn't heard anything about a sword in that, but Mikala had seemed convinced. He could do little more than pray she and the others escaped to the keystone caverns. There, at least, they had a chance to defend themselves.

Now he wished he had listened to her words. His homeland covered in dark, gritty ash looked foreign, and the Arghast were hardly welcoming. Valterius and Gerhonda had thick hides, but even they were vulnerable to the rows of spears surrounding them.

"Leave the dragons, and you walk away," said a man in full headgear.

"No," Sinjin said before anyone else could act or speak. His wife shot him a heated glare but remained silent. "Surrender the Dragon's Tooth, and
you
walk away."

"What are you
doing?
" Osbourne asked from behind him.

Sinjin made no response. He knew what he was doing. He was Al' Drakon. These people knew it. If he came from a stance of weakness, he and his friends would be dead. Instead, he played his role as tribal leader.

"I was here," Strom said, and Sinjin bit his tongue. He had hoped everyone would be smart and remain silent. He'd been wrong. "You pledged loyalty to the Herald of Istra. This is her son."

"We swore no oath of fealty to the Herald of Istra's son," the tribesman said. "Any who take what is hers are thieves and will be treated as such. We've seen the golden dragon. The master of lies has escaped."

Those words sent a chill through Sinjin. Evidence of a dark future was mounting and he liked it not one bit. He needed the sword and knew only one way to get it. "I am Al'Drakon," he said, "and I claim the right of challenge."

These words sent a ripple through the spears. Sinjin hoped the words invoked a less prevalent prophecy as Mikala believed. She'd said it was dangerous but hadn't been able to tell him how or why. He wished Valterius had given her more time to speak.

The tribesman who had spoken for the Arghast flexed his tanned, oiled muscles. "I accept your challenge."

Sinjin swallowed, wondering what he had just done.

* * *

A scouting patrol returned, telling Durin and the others what they already knew. They were under attack. Black sails crowded the horizon, and dark storm clouds roiled overhead, filled with unnatural lightning that never stopped. The darkness had come for them. He hoped Valterius and Gerhonda would bring back Sinjin, Kendra, and the others. They were far better suited to lead. What did he know about battle?